


Stolen Laptops May Lead To Romance

by DarkMoonMaiden



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Gwen and Tony are protective of Peter, Humor, M/M, Neither of them are good at relationships, Peter's a college student, Romance, Slow Build, Wade's a thief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMoonMaiden/pseuds/DarkMoonMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade breaks into Peter's apartment to steal his laptop, and ends up with so much more than he expected.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They should really put labels on laptops. 'Warning: stealing this laptop may lead to you wanting to make out with its owner.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Laptops May Lead To Romance

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is from a prompt on tumblr from elphiegoescraycray. Thanks so much <3 I had way too much fun writing it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Wade felt like this ranked up there with one of the most humiliating places he’d ever robbed. A _college_ _student’s_ apartment.

It was a dumb, dumb move, maybe one of the dumbest. Yeah, there was that time when he accidentally signed up for a job for Neonazis, and that other time with the venomous snakes, but _Jesus._ A college student’s apartment, in a rundown, cheap building. At least the other jobs had been high end, and had left him with an ass-load of money.  This place was Spartan, with no excessive decorations or trinkets.

The latest job he’d been on had gone pear-shaped, resulting with most of Wade’s money going up in flames--literally--so he’d had to hightail it out of there. He’d ran like a goddamn bat out of hell away, and had ended up next to a normal-seeming apartment building miles away from the warehouse, where the person he’d been scamming was trying to kill him. Wade needed a laptop to email the codes and information to his client, and not wanting to risk being followed to one of the numerous apartments he owned in New York, he’d opted to steal from one of the residents of the aforementioned building.

When he’d unlocked the front door with ease and pushed it open, Wade had almost groaned and left the building at the practically empty apartment, with papers scattered across the kitchen table that were related to colleges and syllabi for classes. _Ugh._

God, what if this kid didn’t even have a laptop? The fridge had almost nothing in it, and there was no heating. It had to be his luck, that the first apartment he chose was owned by a poor student.

Not seeing any electronics of the laptop variety, Wade crept down the only hallway in the apartment, silent and observant. There were four doors, one of which was a bathroom, another was a closet. From the third was light snoring, alerting Wade that this was the bedroom and he wasn’t alone in the apartment.

Surprisingly, the bedroom may have been one of the biggest rooms in the house. The windows let in light from the street, illuminating the room. There were numerous canvases and paint utensils lying around (art student, _ugh_ ; no wonder he was broke). On a futon next to the wall was a teenage boy, tangled in the sheets and face down in a pillow.

And hallelujah, there was a laptop on the worn desk, still open and glowing.

As quietly as he could, Wade approached the laptop, minimizing everything open and closing it. He didn’t bother to look back at the sleeping teenager, confident that he wouldn’t wake up.

“Wait!”

Drawing his gun immediately, Wade aimed at the teenager, who was now sitting up, eyes wide and hands raised in a placating gesture.

“I suggest you just go back to sleep and pretend this never happened,” Wade said calmly, keeping the gun trained to the other’s head.

“No, wait, you can totally have the laptop, please, I just need to put my project on a flashdrive for my teacher, it’s the end of the semester and I need to turn it in by tomorrow or I get zero points for it. Please, dude, you can take it after, I won’t call the police or anything--”

“Alright, alright!” Wade interrupted him. The teenager’s jaw shut with an audible click. “Fine, stop talking, just make it fast.”

The teenager tumbled out of the bed, nearly falling on his face. He caught himself and took the laptop from the thief, setting it on the desk. He opened it and quickly jammed the flash drive in, anxiously waiting for the large file to load under the watchful and suspicious gaze of Wade, who kept his gun in his hand. Didn’t want the kid to think he could pull any moves.

When the project was successfully on the portable hard drive, the teenager sighed in pure relief. He ejected the device and closed the laptop, handing it back to the thief. “Thank you so much,” he said, surprising Wade. “You totally saved my ass there.”

“Dude,” Wade said in disbelief, “I’m _robbing_ you. And taking probably the most expensive thing in the place.”

Peter shrugged. “Well, it’s not like I can stop you. And you were nice enough to wait so I could get my project and let me pass my classes.” He gave Wade a smile-- _oh, he’s kind of cute_ \--and the thief couldn’t take it anymore.

“Yeah, okay,” Wade grumbled, holstering his gun. “Don’t you dare the cops about this, got it? Or anyone what I look like. I’ll know if you do.” _No I won’t. But he doesn’t know that._

Not waiting for a response, Wade left the apartment, not closing the door behind him as he raced down the stairs towards the lobby.

A few hours later, Wade was sure he had managed to shake off whoever might have been following him from the last job and had found a cafe that had WiFi, which was a good distance away from the weird teenager. He’d managed to hide the bloodstains on his clothes by buttoning up his black jacket, cordially asking the barista for the internet password.

Wade managed to get the emails that needed to be sent out sent--one to his employer, offering the desired information, and the other to his employer’s rival, offering to help with the revenge--and had replies to them within the hour--his employer thanking him and saying he’d wired the money to Wade’s account, and the other saying he’d gladly hire Wade’s services.

Smirking, content with the business that had been conducted, Wade drank from his coffee and noticed that the teen had left open the folder that had his project. _Why not_ , he thought flippantly, and opened a couple of the images.

Okay, holy _shit_.

He stared at the images and character designs, almost immediately immersed in the characters’ stories and appearances, excitedly looking at all of the concept art for various areas and battle scenes for a comic. Hoo boy, he was not expecting a college kid to be making such an A+ comic, with amazing art.

Wade eagerly opened up the document titled, ‘Progress Paper,’ and skimmed through it, learning that yes, this was actually for a class, but he was going to actually make the comic and develop a game based off of it with a classmate.

_Good._ _I wanna have everything about this._

Whenever he wasn’t out on jobs, Wade had a habit of collecting comics and playing mindless video games for hours and hours on end until he got a call from his next client. And it seemed like this kid--Peter Parker, the name on the paper dubbed him--had managed to combine every aspect that Wade liked into one thing--futuristic style, with a dash of mystery and secrecy, splashes of blood and relatable, _different_ characters.

Stealing paintings over the years had given Wade an appreciation of artistic talent. Sure, Peter’s creations weren’t the grand, old masterpieces that the thief was used to dealing with, but hey, Wade was always up to a change. And Peter was pretty damn awesome with this weird digital art.

Wade grinned widely, shutting down the laptop and getting up to leave the cafe. He couldn’t wait to see what Petey did with the story, and if he could somehow get his hands on a copy.

Wade promptly realized that he had all of the kid’s progress on the laptop.

Wade moaned in disappointment, dragging himself to his apartment, already way too invested into this than he should be. As soon as he entered the apartment, he buried the laptop deep inside his closet, under his black jacket, and went to the bathroom.

He was going to sell the laptop. Wade was going to take a nice, hot shower, relax, put the laptop up for sale, and completely forget about Peter--the _kid_. Because he was a professional, god damn it, and he didn’t have time to chase after a barely legal--but admittedly cute--college kid.

Wade lasted a day.

Before he could stop himself, Wade was on his personal laptop and sending a message to Peter’s email, which he may or may not have found after snooping around more on the stolen computer.

**W:** _How’s your art project coming along?_

Damn. How utterly creepy could he sound? Just out of the blue, a stranger sending a teenager a message, with the name simply listed as ‘W.’

“No, no, no,” Wade moaned, banging his head against the table, cringing as he thought about what Peter’s reply would be. _If_ there was going to be one.

The computer pinged.

**Peter _:_** _um. it’s going fine. but who is this?_

Wade needed to stop being so impulsive. He really had to learn to _think things through._ Okay. He could do this. He just needed to get the compliment out and he would be happy. That’s all he needed to do, without coming off as a complete stalker.

**W:** _No one interesting. I was just wondering how your project was going. Your stuff’s really good._

The thief smirked, satisfied with his response. Vague enough that Peter wouldn’t know who he was, but he still managed to get the compliment he wanted to say out. Wade was actually feeling proud of himself.

There were a few moments before Peter responded.

**Peter:** _are you the guy who stole my laptop?_

Wade immediately typed out a ‘NO’ before slamming his laptop shut and leaving the room, heart thrumming underneath his skin.

It wasn’t until the next day, after Wade had finished meeting with a client about a new job--an easy one, just stealing a few jewels from the wife of a rich politician--that he dared to check his email again. There were two new emails from prospective clients, and one from Peter that he was afraid to open. Wade worked himself up to it, and read the response.

**Peter:** _from your response, i’m going to guess that you are :-) but i’m sorry if i freaked you out i didn’t mean to. and thanks for the compliments. the project’s going well, but the teacher’s not really into it, so i’m going to have to figure out how to compromise with him. and really, i’m not that upset that you took my laptop!_

Wade had to reread the message a few times before the words actually set in, bringing with it a warm, bubbly feeling. Peter still wasn’t mad. He actually seemed _happy_ that Wade had liked his work.

So Wade responded. And Peter responded. And the next thing Wade knew they’d been messaging back and forth for weeks. Wade was hesitant to share private information, but as time passed he grew more relaxed, not as reluctant to talk about himself. They would talk to each other about their days, excitedly sharing the newest happenings of their lives and the annoyances they dealt with.

Wade couldn’t tell if it relieved or annoyed him that Peter never asked to actually meet in person. Logically, he knew that it couldn’t ever really happen--too risky, for both of them--but he couldn’t help but feel insulted that the teenager didn’t feel the need to see him. The conversations were plenty nice, really, and Peter even sent him some pictures of himself or his artwork (which were all saved to his laptop), but it wasn’t the same. Wade wanted to see him, actually go do something with him, like go to a movie or a nice dinner, and be able to kiss him--

Okay, the last one was what he really wanted to do. Once he thought about that, he suddenly couldn’t stop. Because hot damn, that was a really nice idea.

So, Wade may or may not have stalked him. Kind of. Peter _had_ toldhim where he was going to be, so it wasn’t like the thief actually had to dig around, but Peter didn’t necessarily know he was coming.

He sat in the farthest corner of the nearly empty diner, drinking his coffee and hiding behind a book as he scanned the room, hoping to see Peter. The teen had said he was going to be there before class, to meet up with a friend.

He wasn’t actually planning on talking to or approaching the teenager. He just wanted to see him, make sure that Peter was doing okay, indulge in his schoolboy crush a little. Because why now? Wade had been working hard lately; he was allowed to have a break and relax.

There.

Peter had glasses, which, God, made him look like a _nerd._ A ridiculously cute nerd. He looked a bit tired, but he smiled lopsidedly when he located his friend, a blonde girl, waved him over.

Wade’s eyes narrowed as they hugged. “Better not be a girlfriend,” he muttered under his breath, earning an odd look from the lady at the table next to him.

“Hey, Gwen,” Peter greeted her, sitting down across from her. “Sorry, the bus was late.”

“It’s fine,” she waved him off, “I already ordered for you. Pancakes and coffee, right?”

Peter’s wide grin made Wade’s heart skip a beat. _Oh my God, look at me like that._ “You’re a great person,” he gushed, earning a snort from her.

“So, how’ve things been?” she asked. “I haven’t see you in forever. How’s school? Got any new boyfriends? Lovers? Osborn still a freak?”

Peter chuckled. “School’s good. But Jameson’s been riding me about that this new assignment. Apparently I’m trying too hard at being ‘politically correct’ by designing a disabled main character.” He made a disgusted face.

Wade listened in to his rant, a smile forming on his face. It was nice to actually hear Peter’s voice along with the words, instead of just having to read them and imagine. It was sweet, the way he flailed his arms and had to push his glasses up his face every few minutes. The blondie--Gwen--let him talk, occasionally making interjections and huffing in agreement.

Their conversation lulled as food was brought over.

“So, I noticed you avoided the boyfriend question,” Gwen commented, drinking her orange juice.

Peter ducked his bashfully, biting his lip. Wade felt his heart start to sink. “Yeah, I did,” he mumbled.

“Well?” she prodded, nudging his leg with her foot under the table. “You gotta tell me, man. It’s the rules.”

He sighed, putting down his fork. “It’s just a crush,” he admitted, buttering his toast.

“We’ve got time. I want details. How did you meet him?”

Peter’s whole face went a bright red. He mumbled something lowly, too low for Wade to hear. Apparently, it was too quiet for Gwen, too, because she asked for him to repeat it. Peter cleared his throat, and Wade leaned a bit closer.

“He broke into my apartment and stole my laptop.”

“He did _what_?” she loudly exclaimed as Wade fumbled with his mug, splashing coffee onto his chest.

Peter hushed her hurriedly. “Gwen, hush! It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Are you kidding me? You just said he _broke into your apartment.”_

“I know, I know, it sounds like I’ve gone crazy--”

“Damn _right_ it does.”

“Gah, can I just explain to you what happened?” Peter pleaded to her. “It’ll sound a lot better if I explain what the situation was.”

Wade only half listened, floating up in the clouds. _Oh my God. Oh. My. God._ Peter liked him. Liked _him._ Not even as a joke. It seemed like he genuinely...liked Wade, by the way his eyes were soft, how he toyed with a string on his sweater, and only said the good things about the thief.

“He’s really sweet, Gwen,” Peter finished quietly, looking into his coffee. “I like him a lot.”

His friend was obviously torn. “I don’t know what to say,” she moaned. “He’s a thief, Peter. He stole your laptop, and you fell head over heels for him. It sounds like some cheesy romance novel.”

“I know it does,” Peter chuckled. His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “It’s fine. I don’t think he likes me anyway.”

“No!” Wade yelped out loud before he could stop himself. What was Peter thinking? He was _crazy_ about him!  Oh no, no, _no._ He had to set this straight right now, he couldn’t stand Petey thinking he didn’t like him, especially when it made him put on _that_ face.

Wade’s outburst was covered up by a louder commotion by a couple a few tables down. An imposing man was yelling at a tearful woman, his finger jabbing threatening at her, while an ignored waitress stood to the side, attempting to step in. The crying lady flinched violently with each point and tried to say something, which seemed to enrage him. He stood up, fist pulled back as if he were going to hit her.

Wade was there in a second, grabbing the outstretched hand right before it could land, wrenching it behind the man’s back. He slammed the man down on the table, pinning him.

“Let’s not hit people who’re crying, hm?” Wade asked him sweetly, easily fighting against his struggles. “Or people who are to afraid to fight back. Or shit like this is going to happen.”

“Let me go, you faggot,” the man snarled at Wade, renewing the struggles.

“Oh, hush, you,” Wade chided him, looking up at the woman still sitting in her seat, stunned. “What would you like to do with him, milady? Police or let him go?”

She hesitated, before whispering, “Police.”

Wade let the guy up, a waiter grabbing his arm and taking him outside to wait for the cops. Wade smiled after them, satisfied with his weekly good deed as a few of the other patrons gave him a round of applause. And he had managed to do it in front of his crush.

Fuck.

Peter was standing, lips parted in amazement and eyes wide. “Wade,” he breathed in surprise.

Wade’s whole face caught on fire, and his mind went blank on what to do. “I gotta go,” he blurted, and practically ran out of the diner, ignoring the calls after him. He ignored the insults spat at him from the man talking to a police officer and hurried down the sidewalk, hoping to get lost in the crowd.

A hand grabbed his upper arm, and Wade whirled around to see Peter _touching_ him. _I’m going to die. This is how I’m going to die._

“Hey, why’d you leave so fast?” Peter asked breathlessly, grinning at him and adjusting his glasses.

“Uh. I dunno,” Wade said stupidly, cheeks still pink. “I, um. No reason.” This was ridiculous. He could barely get a full sentence out without stuttering. _Come on, Wade! You’re not a freaking schoolgirl!_

“Oh.” Peter’s face fell minutely, but the smile was back almost immediately. “But I saw what you did in there. That was really incredible. You moved so _fast_ , and helped that lady.” The awe in Peter’s expression was doing some interesting things to Wade’s stomach.

“Thanks,” Wade managed, trying to give his most charming grin. “Ah, speed kind of comes with my job.” Peter laughed in agreement, but then the two lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk. When someone elbowed roughly passed Wade, giving him a dirty look, they both moved to the entrance of an alley, out of the way of the passersby.

“So, uh, I have a question for you,” Peter finally said, scratching the back of his head. “I was going to message you about it later, but since you’re here, I might as well ask you now. I, ah, I’m having a show at a gallery next weekend, my first big one, and I was wondering if you wanted to come.” The last words came out rushed, like Peter wanted to get it out before he lost his nerve. His face flushed and Wade felt heat start to rise up his own face.

"I--I'd love to," Wade managed, which earned him a thousand megawatt smile from the teenager and made the thief’s knees weak. _Oh lawd, have mercy._

"Great! I’m, um, glad,” Peter managed, letting out a choked giggle. “Uh, do you have any paper or a pen? I’ll give you the address.”

Wade searched his pockets, producing a pen. “Sorry, no paper--”

He started when he felt Peter’s cold hand grab his wrist, pulling it towards him. He pushed the sleeve of Wade’s dress shirt down, and scrawled out an address and a time on the back of Wade’s hand. His skin tingled pleasantly where Peter had touched him, and something inside of him ached to grab his hand again.

“Sorry, I should’ve asked before I did that,” Peter said nervously, fixing Wade’s sleeve and blowing on the ink.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Wade rushed to assure him. “I’ll be there.”

Peter gave him a wide smile. “Thanks.”

Wade waved at the teenager as he left, staring at the back of his hand in wonder. Peter’s handwriting was messy, but that just made it all the more endearing.

Feeling lighter and happier than he had in months, Wade cheerfully went on with his day.

***

Wade was going to murder someone.

Namely, the client for this job, if he got his hands on him. ‘A small theft,’ his ass. How did _small_ translate into a heavily guarded, 90-pound statue?

Almost everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. Of _course_ it did. Wade had been stuck in a dark closet for over an hour, having to dive in there when a man carrying an _assault rifle_ entered the room. The cameras hadn’t turned off when they were supposed to. He had to lug this pile of crap statue up four flights of stairs until he reached the roof, and then the helicopter that was supposed to pick him up was fifteen minutes late.

The client, a man who Wade had done business with more than a couple of times, was appropriately apologetic, promising an extra few thousand dollars for his troubles, and a ride to his apartment. On any other occasion, Wade would have refused the ride, on the basis that it wasn’t professional, but he was already late to Peter’s show, and his back was still aching horribly from the time spent in that closet.

“Can’t you drive any faster?” Wade anxiously called up to the driver, buttoning up his jacket.

He’d at least planned for some kind of delay, and had brought his suit with him to change into. His white dress shirt was a bit wrinkled, but the jacket hid it pretty well. Oh no, was his tie crooked? The crappy mirror in the back of the car made it nearly impossible to tell.

At Wade’s request, the driver let him out at the end of the street. Wade straightened his suit jacket before making his way towards the gallery.

It was obvious the opening party had been in full swing for a while. It was packed with people, all chatting and viewing the art as waiters wove around them, offering drinks and food. There were two levels, with cement flooring and white walls. Peter wasn’t in sight, but Wade knew he would show up eventually.

Wade whistled between his teeth as he looked at the art on the walls. They ranged from sketches to paintings to prints of Peter’s digital art, some of them in modest frames, while others hung behind thin panels of glass.

Wade was torn between standing and admiring the art or seeking out the artist. The option he chose was the obvious one, and Wade roamed the bottom level for Peter, absently taking a glass of wine off of one of the waiters and ignoring a woman’s attempt to flirt with him. Distressingly, Peter wasn’t there, and Wade maneuvered his way to the staircase.

He was concerned when he still didn’t see the kid anywhere. Had he left early? Did something happen?

Found him!

Peter was standing with his back to a pillar, wearing a suit that looked positively adorable on him. (But then again, everything looked adorable on him. And nothing on him would look adorable on him, too). He was holding a coke and shifting from foot to foot nervously, scratching the back of his head and glancing side to side with a panicked expression.

Their eyes met when Wade was still a good few yards away from him. The nervousness seemed to melt from Peter, and a wide grin broke across his features. He raised his hand in greeting, leaning to the side to maintain sight of Wade when a man walked between them.

“Hey,” Peter said breathily, cheeks rosy. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Yeah, sorry, the job went a bit longer than I thought it would,” Wade said, pulling at the edge of his suit jacket. “Did I miss a lot?”

“Not much,” Peter shrugged. “You missed me stuttering through a ‘thanks for coming’ speech, and Mr. Stark’s speech. And the auction.”

“I missed the auction?” Wade asked, aghast. “I was going to buy something! What’s left?”

“The stuff that’s not for sale,” Peter said, sounding lightheaded. “Mr. Stark had a lot of his rich friends over and they pretty much called dibs on everything. I’m...still freaking out about that.”

Wade smiled, fighting back disappointment. He’d been planning on buying a couple pieces to decorate his apartments Ah, well. At least they’d all been bought, and Peter was getting money. Judging Peter’s stunned expression, he hadn’t expected to sell much.

“That’s great, Peter,” Wade said, reaching out and squeezing Peter’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

_Proud?_ What was he, his freaking father? _I need to stop. I just need to never talk again. Seriously._

A blush fully bloomed over Peter’s face, and he smiled shyly. “Thanks,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head again. A nervous habit, Wade was starting to realize.

They talked for awhile, Peter leaning against the pillar and Wade standing in front of him, a sort of barrier between the young artist and the crowds who would have bumped into him otherwise. Every so often, a person would come up and butt into their conversation, starting a new one with Peter. The teenager would talk politely with them, answering their questions and accepting the compliments humbly. Eventually, someone else in the room would distract the person and they would leave.

One of the people who came up was actually a welcome one: Gwen. She gave Peter a long hug, pulling back and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. They both laughed when it left a pink kiss mark on his cheek, the blonde carefully rubbing it off.

“Peter, I can’t believe this,” she marveled, looking around. “Mr. Stark went _all out_ for you. This is absolutely incredible.”

“I know,” he gushed. “I nearly had a heart attack when people freaking stampeded in here.”

“Would you expect anything less from Tony?” she laughed, Peter joining in.

Something in the back of Wade’s mind perked up at the name. Tony Stark? It couldn’t be _that_ Tony Stark, the billionaire, owner of Stark Industries, art enthusiast? Tony Stark wasn’t exactly a common name, but it really couldn’t be the same one. That would just be too much of a coincidence, too insane.

“Oh! You two haven’t met!”

Peter grabbed Wade’s arm, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Wade, this is Gwen, my best friend. Gwen, this is Wade, the guy I told you about.”

“Yeah, I guessed it was him.” Her eyes were guarded, but she gave him a forced smile and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ah, you too,” Wade said, swallowing nervously. “Peter talks a lot about you.”

“He talks about you, too,” she said coolly. “A lot of things.”

Wade winced. “Look, if it’s about the laptop--”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted him, waving him off. “Peter’s already had this discussion with me dozens of times. Just excuse me if I’m not at all sold on you yet.”

“Gwen!” Peter hissed, elbowing her in the side. She ignored him, staring Wade down with calculating blue eyes.

Wade fought back a smile, heart warmed at the fact that Peter had such a caring friend. The thief had at least sixty pounds of muscle on her, and years of experience, but she didn’t think twice about staring him straight in the eyes, eyebrow arching challengingly.

“That’s fine,” he said. “It’s a bit comforting, actually. Petey needs someone to watch out for him when he trusts random strangers who broke into his apartment.”

Peter’s face was mortified and a laugh was startled out of Gwen. “It’s not like this is a common occurrence,” Peter grumbled, nudging Wade with his hip.

“I’d hope not,” Wade replied, eyes crinkling with his grin.

Peter smiled at him again, and Wade gave him a soft one in return. Gwen watched the private scene with interest, before nodding her head, satisfied.

The three of them chatted, the tension slowly leaving Gwen. She stayed distrustful, but she no longer thought Wade was going to murder her or Peter. The conversation was almost pleasant. Peter’s shoulder brushed against Wade every so often, and he’d glance shyly at him in the corner of his eye every few minutes, like he couldn’t believe Wade was standing next to him.

Wade was in a similar state, and desperately wanted to go somewhere private. Not to do anything dirty, but just to relax. Curl up on the couch with him and read together. Watch Peter work his magic and make a masterpiece. Fall asleep next to him, crammed in Peter’s small bed, or in a hotel, and have breakfast in bed...

“Petey boy!”

That was a familiar voice.

Wade stood ramrod straight as Tony Stark swept through the room, the crowds parting like the sea to fucking Moses, heading straight towards them. The billionaire ignored Wade and Gwen, giving Peter a one-armed hug.

“How are ya doin’, kid?” he asked cheerily, squeezing Peter’s upper arm. “Still holding out?”

“Yeah, I’m doing fine,” Peter said. Wade discretely turned around, admiring the art behind him and hiding his face from Tony.

“Did your date show up yet? Oh, is this him?”

Wade froze, slowly turning around to face Tony. He saw the recognition behind the tinted glasses, his jaw dropping. Peter’s brow furrowed in confusion as the two stared at each other, the silence stretching out.

“Uh, it’s nice to see you again, Mr. Stark,” Wade said, holding out his hand to his past client.

Tony stiffly shook his hand, jaw tightening. “Likewise,” he said coolly.

“I think I’m going to leave now,” Gwen whispered to Peter. She gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “Good luck.” Peter hummed in acknowledgement, too busy watching the standoff between his mentor and his date to give a proper response.

“So, why are you here?” Tony asked, forcing his voice cool as he grabbed a wine glass from a passing waiter.

“For pleasure,” Wade responded, trying to match his casual tone. “I had a break in work, and Peter invited me to his show, so I thought I’d come and support him.”

Tony’s gaze narrowed. “That’s nice of you,” he said. “Are you planning on…taking any of the artwork home with you?”

It didn’t escape Wade’s notice that he said ‘take,’ not ‘buy.’ “I was going to buy something, but Peter told me everything was already sold,” Wade said, sighing in disappointment. “But I’m getting a few pieces commissioned for my living room.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, unconvinced and obviously of the mindset that Wade was there to scope out the place and steal something.

“Wait, what?” Peter asked incredulously, blinking.

Wade nodded, turning towards Peter. His expression softened when he looked at the shocked teenager. “Yeah,” he said, smiling lopsidedly. “Surprise. I was serious when I said I wanted your stuff a couple of days ago. We’ll talk about it later, though.”

“Alright,” Peter squeaked, tugging insistently at his jacket in an effort to calm down.

Tony glanced at Peter before returning to staring down Wade. “I suggest you think about what you’re doing very carefully, Wilson,” he said lowly, moving closer to Wade. “If you’re just scamming this kid, you better cut it off now. I will not stand for it. He’s too nice to have to deal with your douchebaggery.”

Wade leaned back, offended. “Mr. _Stark_!” he exclaimed. “I would _never_ suck you off in public!”

The conversation around them stopped dead, everyone turning and staring at them.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Wilson?” Tony hissed as the whispers and murmurs started up again.

“What the hell do you think _you’re_ doing?” Wade growled in response. “I’m not conning Petey. I actually like him, so stop trying to ruin my chance at having a relationship with him.”

“He doesn’t need some thief chasing after him and trying to get his pants while he’s focusing on college--”

“I think me and Wade are going to leave now, Mr. Stark,” Peter abruptly cut in, physically stepping in between them. He grabbed Wade’s hand, smiling at Tony. “I’m not feeling too well, and Wade said he’d walk me home.”

Tony protested, but gave up when Peter stayed adamant, smiling serenely. Eventually, the playboy threw up his hands and waved them off, ordering Peter to text him when he got home and call him in the morning.

Peter went through the rounds, saying goodbye to a few notable people and the security guards in the gallery before leaving, Wade close behind him.

Peter breathed in deeply, enjoying the cold air after being in the hot gallery. “Sorry about him,” he apologized. “Tony gets protective of his artists.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Wade waved him off. “I worked on a job for him years ago, and we didn’t get along very well. Apparently he still has his panties in a twist.” Peter chuckled, his breath coming out in a cloud because of the cold.

“So, were you serious about me walked you home?” Wade asked, trying to hide the eagerness from his voice.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to,” Peter stammered. “It’s really late, and I just said that to give you a way out. But, I mean, if you _want_ to, you can, if it’s not out of your way.”

“‘Course I will,” Wade said quickly, giddy with happiness. “I have an apartment close to yours. It’s not out of my way at all.”

Peter agreed. Only hesitating for a moment, Wade held his arm out, offering it for Peter to take. He wasn’t sure if it was too girly or sentimental for the artist, but it was worth a shot if it got him a chance to touch Peter and offer him warmth. And hell _yes,_ Peter looped his arm through Wade’s, his hand resting on Wade’s arm comfortably. They walked down the sidewalk, glued to each other’s sides.

When they reached Peter’s apartment building, Peter stopped at the door and faced Wade. The tips of his ears and nose were red from the harsh cold, and there was a dusting of snow on his dark blue jacket.

“Do you...want to come up? For coffee?” Peter spoke haltingly, taking a half step closer to Wade and boldly talking his hand. The offer in his voice was obvious, an invitation to take their relationship to the levels above friendship.

Wade only needed to lean forward for their lips to connect, the kiss slow and careful. “I’d love to,” he murmured, and followed Peter into the building.

In the morning, Wade didn’t leave. Instead of panicking and running out, thinking the person would regret the interaction with him, he stayed, confident that Peter wasn’t going to be like that. The fact that there wasn’t any sex helped, too, taking away the fear of a less than stellar ‘performance.’

When Peter awoke, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his neck, Wade was there with coffee and toast. Peter had pulled the covers back, urging him back into the bed, and Wade gave him a kiss on the cheek and complied.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments/kudos much appreciated!
> 
> If you want me to write you anything or just wanna chat, send me a message on tumblr: darkmoonmaiden.tumblr.com


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